


The Eye of the Storm

by greywing (ctrlx)



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrlx/pseuds/greywing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What might have happened following the events of 2x08.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: _I really want to know what happened right after Cosima has that horrible seizure in the lab. In the next episode Cosima is in a hospital bed with a nose tube and she has gotten worse. A lot has obvs. happened between these two episodes that we don't get to see. Did Delphine stay with her until she woke up? How did the two of them react to the seizure, Cosima getting worse, to the nose tube? Did Delphine sleep there? Conversations? Comfort? I NEED TO KNOW! Use your words to enlighten us please :)_

Delphine felt hot and cold all over. Her heart pounded blood that flowed like ice in her veins, her skin blazed flushed beneath a sheen of cooling sweat, while her muscles jittered with the tensile strength of rubber. Her vision sharpened to the clarity of crystal, colors leaping in high definition, but she passed through each second as through a fog, every impression laden with an eeriness of distortion. 

Underneath her, on the floor, Cosima convulsed and gasped.

Delphine's brain struggled. This wasn't real. 

Cosima's breaths shortened and hitched, staccato punctuations that hiccuped and gurgled in choked, liquid effort. The sound snapped Delphine back into herself.

The blood--Cosima's lungs--her airway--it wasn't clear. 

_Jésus_ , she hadn't been thinking. 

Delphine moved with speed tempered by a fear of hurting Cosima. The spasms had raised Cosima's arms above her chest, twitching in rhythmic jerks at the elbows and wrists, but--Delphine pressed her lips together--the risk of causing a minor injury was better than Cosima choking. Delphine slipped one hand beneath Cosima's head to cradle and cushion it against the unforgiving floor and reached over Cosima's body to grasp her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she muttered, though she knew Cosima couldn't hear, feeling selfish that the act of apologizing lent her comfort and normalcy, and pulled. Professor Duncan saw what she was attempting to do and reached out to help, lifting from Cosima's other side. Together they reoriented Cosima onto her side as her gasps softened in volume, red-flecked spittle dripping from the corner of her mouth. 

"Here," Professor Duncan said, hurrying out of his jacket. He folded it over on itself haphazardly once, twice, and slipped the misshapen bundle beneath Delphine's hand. 

"Thank you," Delphine breathed as she delicately lowered Cosima's head and withdrew her hand. She glanced at the Professor. He looked concerned, haunted almost. Divested of his jacket and huddled on the floor, he appeared so much more an old, narrow man without shoulder pads giving him the illusion of boxiness. In one wild moment Delphine thought: _How can this man save Cosima? How can he fix this?_

Almost abruptly, between one breath and the next, Cosima's spasms tapered off, the rigidity of her muscles pooling into limpness. She lay swallowing repeatedly, breaths heavy, dragging through her throat.

For a second Delphine and Professor remained inert, two persons poised over the jack-in-the-box of Cosima's body, anxious it might spring. The stillness stretched. 

In the sudden calm, Delphine remembered to breathe. The rush of oxygen animated her muscles. She lay a hand on Cosima's shoulder and leaned down to look into Cosima's face. 

"Cosima?" Delphine called out to her softly. Cosima's line of sight was directed at the ground. She blinked but didn't react to Delphine's presence. Her chest heaved in great gulps, hungry for air, but not laboring against an obstruction. "Cosima, can you hear me?" No reaction. "Can you speak?"

At that, Cosima rolled onto her back, sluggish and lethargic, eyes sweeping lazily in an arc. Delphine relocated her hand to Cosima's other shoulder, squeezing, rubbing. Cosima didn't seem to notice. She tried to sit up.

"Hey, hey," Delphine sang softly and gently pushed her back down. "Where are you going? Lie down. It's okay. It's okay. Stay right here. Cosima? Can you hear me?"

Cosima caught her breath and made another attempt to sit up, uncoordinated and weak. Delphine prevented her again, crooning softly, trying to recall if this were typical behavior in the wake of a seizure, frustrated she wasn't better versed in the mechanisms of seizures, knowing logically she'd had no reason to be, not feeling the least assuaged by the rationale, and looked to Professor Duncan. 

"I'm sorry, Professor, but could you--" She darted a look toward the couch. He followed the direction of her sight. 

"Ah, yes," he said and lumbered to his feet. He fetched one of the throw pillows and, when Cosima tried a third time to rise, placed it beneath her head, atop his jacket. Face pinched, Professor Duncan reached over and waved a hand before Cosima's eyes. He shook his head. "She's not with us."

Delphine's gut clenched, though she knew this type of unresponsiveness wasn't unusual. She wet her lips. 

"Cosima," she said, "if you can hear me, can you--can you rub your belly?"

Cosima turned her head and looked at her. Right through her. With blood smeared across the paleness of her lips, her cheeks, and chin, it was ghastly, an image out of a zombie film Cosima once had insisted Delphine watch-- _Shaun of the Dead_. That was it. 

It had been a funny film. Cosima had snorted in laughter at parts, watching Delphine to see if she would laugh. Delphine had laughed, because Cosima had laughed, to hear Cosima laugh more. 

How she wanted to hear Cosima laugh now, to see that light in her eyes--bright, sharp, intelligent, _there_ \--and read the shit-eating grin that said _Gotcha, just kidding!_

Cosima groaned. 

Delphine reached out to wipe Cosima's cheek, noticing too the sweat beaded along her hairline, and was startled midway by the sudden commotion of voices and footsteps. Scott shuffled in ahead of two personnel in scrubs and directed them to the trio on the floor. He hung back from the scene, wringing his hands, looking as if he wanted to approach but recognizing that it was crowded already. In the interval between his arrival and the first question, Delphine caught his eye and nodded. 

"What happened?" the woman of the pair asked as she settled beside Delphine. Her companion knelt on the other side of Cosima, peering into her face, reaching for her wrist. He spoke to Cosima softly, trying to get a response, but had no more success than Delphine had. When he grasped Cosima's hand, her fingers curled around his, flexing and relaxing. Delphine reached for Cosima's other hand, sandwiching it between both of hers.

"Seizure," Delphine replied curtly, meeting the woman's eyes. Delphine didn't know her. The unfamiliarity shored up Delphine's speech with a veneer of professional courtesy. The role of doctor settled on her like a mantle and with it a veil of order. "Generalized."

"This is the first time?"

"Yes, that I know of. Patient history didn't indicate any prior episodes."

The nurse scanned the area and frowned. "She fell?"

"Yes," Delphine confirmed.

"Did she hit her head?"

Delphine's forehead furrowed. Had Cosima? Delphine replayed the moment, straining to remember, but the memory was garbled, disjointed, dominated by a sense of confusion and disbelief. "I'm not sure. She fell face first. I think she may have managed to catch herself but--" She shook her head. "I'm not sure."

The two nurses exchanged a look. The male nurse nodded and reached for a penlight in his pocket. 

"How long did the seizure last?" the woman asked Delphine. 

Delphine hesitated. Dread crept up from her gut, a cold feeling that cast a shadow of doubt across her thoughts. She hadn't checked the time. She hadn't thought to note the time. She shook her head. "I don't know. Probably no longer than a minute." She looked to Professor Duncan for confirmation. He nodded. 

"And the blood? Did she cut her lip in the fall?"

"Could have bit the inside of her cheek," the other nurse said, inspecting Cosima's mouth closely. "The blood looks like it came from inside her mouth." 

Delphine studied the nurses, one then the other. They didn't know. Of course. Probability predicted they wouldn't have known, so few were expressly enlightened as to the existence of the clone project, but the clones' nature and issues had so consumed Delphine in recent weeks--openly and frankly in the bubble of the lab with Cosima alone--that the question smacked her as a rude reminder and held her tongue. 

"I don't see any signs of a concussion," the other nurse pronounced aloud, "or any noticeable injuries, but we'll know better once she's responsive."

A knot within Delphine eased at the announcement. There could be no secrecy about Cosima's illness. "She has a respiratory condition. She coughed up the blood, when the seizure started."

The nurse nodded. Her companion was trying to take Cosima's blood pressure, speaking aloud to describe his actions. He glanced over at the two of them. "She's still not responsive. Should we move her?"

The nurse looked to Delphine. "We can take her to the patient care unit, put her under observation until she comes around."

"I'll go with you," Delphine said by way of affirmation. "I'm her primary physician." 

The revelation altered something in the nurse's gaze. She glanced at Cosima, taking in the lab coat that boasted the DYAD logo over the breast. "She's one of our patients?"

"Yes," Delphine said shortly.

The curtness of her tone didn't abash the nurse, who said, "I guess that makes things easier."

Delphine elected to pretend that she didn't hear--or understand.

*

By the time the gurney arrived, Cosima still wasn't giving coherent replies. She seemed to look through everyone and her mumbled responses were mostly unintelligible. It was unclear if she were able to hear them. Sometimes she performed motions--rubbing her belly, touching her nose--when prompted, other times she gave no indication she was aware of being spoken to. Delphine and Scott managed to get Cosima to her feet between them, standing mostly under her own power, but Delphine could feel the tremble of Cosima's muscles through their points of contact. She didn't resist as together they guided her to the gurney and settled her upon it. 

The complete absence of recognition in the look Cosima gave her as she lay on the gurney made Delphine turn away.

She retreated into a hasty conference with Scott and Professor Duncan. To the latter she apologized for having to leave. Professor Duncan shook his head.

"No apologies, my dear." He looked toward Cosima, his gravity hinting he might say more, but he only added, "Once all is settled, we'll begin immediately."

She tasked Scott to stay with Professor Duncan. The instructions were met by a torn expression. Delphine read Scott's desire to go with Cosima and braced herself to be stern or cajoling, whichever was needed. Scott scanned her face. They were both silent. The moment hung, suspended. Delphine opened her mouth.

Scott relented with a nod. 

Delphine relaxed into a faint smile. 

Tasks, tasks, there were tasks to arrange and to do, a list that Delphine collated as she walked beside the gurney. The journey to the ward passed through a series of elevator rides, hallway jaunts, and a flurry of planning. A private room waited ready. As the staff transferred Cosima from gurney to bed, Delphine made it clear that Cosima was a priority, that a rush should be put on every test, and that if anyone asked why, they should be referred to her. She pulled aside the most senior of the available staff and issued a list of tests she wanted sent for.

At the conclusion, the nurse prompted, "Tox screen?"

Delphine hesitated. She thought back to the night before. The sensation of her heart expanded so large it threatened to close her throat. Cosima looking up at her. The moment afloat. On a promise fulfilled. On one implicitly given.

Delphine swallowed. She knew what the tests would find--if not the answers to the question she kept at bay. She told the nurse yes anyway.

The sight of nurses swarming over Cosima instilled in Delphine an impulse to hover, or even to ask them to step aside and let her take Cosima's temperature or her pulse or connect her to the cardiac monitor. Her hands hung useless by her side. She noted a few curious and skeptical looks thrown her way, the only one in the room not in scrubs or a lab coat. Out of uniform. Unprepared. She stayed long enough to be satisfied that Cosima was in capable hands and exited fast enough to appease the sense of urgency that told her to finish quickly and return before Cosima came around.

There were calls to make. 

Delphine arranged for MRI and EEG technicians to be on standby at her notice. When pressed for a specific time, she nearly snapped, _When I tell you I'll be there, and if you have a problem with that, you can take it Dr. Leekie._

But she remembered: Leekie was dead.

Her breath stalled in mid-conversation. Leekie was dead and Rachel Duncan was in his office and Delphine couldn't very well use Rachel's name, could she? How many people at the Dyad even knew of Rachel Duncan? The woman who looked like the woman for whom Delphine was arranging tests, two of a whole line of women possibly susceptible to falling very ill to the same affliction, one who already had. 

Delphine covered her eyes. 

"Hello?"

"I'll let you know. Just please be prepared." She hung up before she heard a reply.

As an afterthought, she dashed off a message to Rachel. 

_Cosima suffered seizure. Cause uncertain. Running tests._

When she stepped back into Cosima's room, the brunette was lying down, propped up on pillows and beneath a thin blanket. The cardiac monitor beeped in steady rhythm. They'd gotten Cosima out of her lab coat and draped it over a chair. Only one nurse was in the room, daubing at Cosima's face with a small sponge. 

"I'll do that," Delphine declared.

The nurse turned and gave Delphine a look that expressed, _Who are you?_

"Dr. Cormier." She pointed at her identification badge, clipped to her belt. "The patient's primary physician. I'll do that." She held out a hand. 

The nurse glanced at the badge, then up into Delphine's face. With uncertainty she yielded the stained sponge and the small bowl of warm water she clutched in her other hand. 

"Has she come to?" Delphine asked.

"She's still a bit out of it, doctor," the nurse said. "We weren't sure if we were supposed to send for the neurologist."

"If he has time to take a look at her," Delphine agreed. "Are we all done here?"

The nurse nodded. "We've sent her blood ahead for the tests you requested and we're monitoring her for signs of a concussion."

Delphine nodded. "Good. Thank you. I'll stay with her."

The nurse retreated from the room with a bit of reluctance. A stark image of herself flashed through Delphine's mind: a moderately tall woman dressed in severe black who handed out orders in accented English, a stranger on the ward, and for all any of the staff knew she was lying about her credentials. The reflection was almost amusing, if because Delphine couldn't imagine where to begin to untangle the layers of lies that would have entailed. 

Was it any wonder the way Cosima sometimes looked at her?

Sorrow tugged at her lips. Delphine shook her head. 

"Hello, _ma chérie_ ," she said softly as she approached Cosima's side. She smiled though Cosima didn't. "I'm back. I'm sorry I disappeared for a bit." She placed the bowl of water onto the side table, nudging Cosima's folded glasses out of the way, dipped the sponge into it, and wrung out a pinkened mess. She dabbed at Cosima's cheek, trying to loosen the dried blood. Cosima flinched away. "Sorry, this might be a little uncomfortable."

She worked at the blood as best she could. Hoping to give Cosima something to focus on, she provided a summary of events, sprinkling commentary for color here and there.

"I'm pretty sure a number of the nurses suspect I am an imposter--or at least misrepresenting myself," Delphine said lowly. "Would not be the first time, though, hm?" She let out a small exhale of laughter, though a stray thought wondered if she and Cosima could ever laugh over that aspect of their history.

Delphine wet her lips. "I left Professor Duncan in the care of Scott. I hope they fare well together. I'm sure Scott has a million questions, but I have no idea how Professor Duncan might react to that." She shrugged. "It was the best I could do on short notice."

She swabbed at Cosima's cheek. "I don't know about Rachel," she confessed softly, "but as long as we're here and she's my superior, we need her. She made good on her end about Professor Duncan. I know you would rather not work with her--or for her--but we might not have a choice."

Cosima gazed off somewhere over Delphine's shoulder. Delphine sighed. "Oh, Cosima."

There was nothing else she could think to do. She wanted to hear Cosima respond. She wanted, very badly, that they could have always talked this way, sharing and making plans rather than dancing around each other, careful to avoid stepping on each other's toes or giving one another too much information that could be passed along or misconstrued or was too volatile to drop into the minefield of their fractured trust. It was the stem cells and the blood samples and the phone calls and hiring Scott and the monitoring-- 

Delphine looked into Cosima's eyes. "I wanted to tell you."

Nothing looked back at her.

Delphine checked a sigh. She cleaned Cosima as best she could, smoothed her hand over her hair, and kissed her forehead. A nurse passing through the hallway whisked away the bowl and sponge with Delphine's thanks. Delphine washed her hands before flipping through Cosima's charts. Nothing alarming leapt out at her. She replaced it thoughtfully, located a chair, and brought it to the bed's side. She scooted close so that she could hold Cosima's hand in one hand and with the other she plumb the Internet's database stores on seizures.

Delphine felt the epitome of a medical professional. 

The room was quiet but for the steady beeps of the cardiac monitor. Periodically Delphine glanced up and gave Cosima's hand a squeeze. 

"Where are my glasses?" The crackle of Cosima's voice snapped Delphine's head up. "What happened?"

"Hey," Delphine breathed. Cosima squinted at her, straining to focus but present and aware. "Your glasses are right here." Delphine stood and reluctantly let go of Cosima's hand to retrieve the frames from the side table. With care she unfolded the temples and held them out to Cosima. Moving sluggishly, Cosima took them from her and slipped them on. Almost as an afterthought she probed at the cannula tube in her nostrils. She frowned. 

"Would you like some water?" Delphine asked. Cosima cleared her throat and nodded. Delphine poured a small amount into a plastic cup and dropped a straw into it. Cosima eyed the end of the straw when Delphine brought it close to her mouth, but let Delphine hold the cup while she sipped. When she finished, she cleared her throat again.

"Thanks," she croaked, sounding marginally less scratchy.

"You're welcome," Delphine said gently. Her voice was hushed, as if wary to compete with Cosima's efforts. She held up a finger. "Can you follow the tip of my finger with your eyes?" A hint of amusement colored Cosima's gaze, but she tracked the movement of Delphine's finger left and right, up and down through the air with ease and accuracy. Delphine dropped her hand. "Good. How do you feel?"

"No light to shine in my eyes?" Cosima teased.

The jibe hooked a smile from Delphine disproportionately wide. She smothered it and patted her empty breast pocket. "I forgot mine while getting dressed today."

Cosima smirked. Delphine covered Cosima's hand and repeated, gently, "How do you feel?"

Cosima's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Tired. Achy. Sore achy. What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Cosima's forehead furrowed in thought. "You and Professor Duncan walking into the lab. Shaking his hand. Then--" She shook her head. "--this feeling like--like everything was clearer, somehow? Then--" 

Cosima frowned. She was quiet, long enough that Delphine said, "Cosima?"

Cosima shook her head. "Nothing. I don't remember anything after that."

Delphine nodded, despite the disinclination she heard in Cosima's voice, and squeezed Cosima's hand gently. "You had a seizure."

She let that sink in. Cosima remained silent for a time. Her expression was difficult to read. Delphine thought she saw confusion, consternation, uncertainty, but also concentration, the pinched look Cosima acquired when she was working out a puzzle. "How long ago?"

"About an hour," supplied Delphine.

"An hour?" Cosima digested that. "Was I awake?"

Delphine rubbed the back of Cosima's hand with her thumb. "You were conscious after the seizure, yes, but you were mostly unresponsive until now."

"Is that . . ." Cosima's eyebrows twitched toward one another. ". . . normal?"

"For the most part," Delphine said carefully, "seizures aren't a normalized experience, but this case fits the--parameters of . . . the familiar. We won't know more until we perform some tests."

"Right now?" Cosima asked.

Delphine smiled apologetically and brushed the back of her fingers across Cosima's cheek. "The sooner the better. We've already sent your blood to the lab." When Cosima sighed, Delphine forced a smile. "We plan to keep you awake anyway, to monitor you for any signs of a concussion." 

"I don't know if you have to worry about that," Cosima muttered. "I think we all have pretty hard heads." Her eyes wandered away from Delphine and darted around the room. "Where am I?"

"Still at the Dyad. This is our patient care ward," Delphine told her. 

The beeps of the heart monitor increased incrementally in tempo. "Is this where you kept Jennifer?"

"Not in this room," Delphine said evenly, "but she stayed in this ward while she received treatment, yes."

Delphine observed how Cosima's breaths shortened incrementally. "I don't want to stay here."

Delphine wet her lips. "Under the circumstances, it's best to keep you under observation--"

"Yeah, I get that," Cosima said shortly, the rawness of her voice making her sound even more curt. Her eyes swept from one corner of the room to the other, a vaguely haunted impression lurking in her gaze. "But not here."

Delphine breathed out slowly. She nodded, trying to smile. "I'll see what I can do."

*

"Hey, Delphine," Cosima called to her as Delphine pushed her in a wheelchair to the MRI lab. "Give me your hand."

Puzzled, Delphine extended her left hand over Cosima's shoulder, which turned out not to be conducive to pushing the wheelchair straight. They coasted to a stop, during which Cosima seized her hand, slipped something first over her ring finger, and fit something tight over Delphine's pinky. The latter snagged on the first joint and would go no farther than her distal phalange.

"Okay," Cosima said. "Hang onto those for me."

Delphine raised her hand and almost laughed. Circling her ring finger was Cosima's golden ring, around her pinky clung her nose ring hoop.

"Do I have to wear this one?" Delphine asked, wagging her pinky. "I feel like I might lose it like this."

"Yes, you have to wear it," Cosima scolded her. "And you better not lose it. These are the first pieces of jewelry I'm lending you. I'm trusting you to take care of them for me."

Delphine shook her head and gripped the handles of the wheelchair. The nose ring dug into her pinky, a constricting reminder. 

"I'll guard them with my life," she promised. 

*

"How are you feeling, Cosima?" the MRI technician asked through the intercom. "Ready to begin?"

"Fire at will," came the answer. The tech smiled, laughter in her expression. Delphine smiled too, heartened by the droll humor emitting from the speakers. 

"Okay, we're going to begin."

As images aggregated, Delphine stood behind the tech, observing over her shoulder. She waited a minute before leaning down and whispering, "I'll be right back." The tech nodded to indicate she'd heard. Delphine lingered a moment longer, then stepped out into the hallway.

She checked her phone had a signal and dialed a contact. 

"Hello, yes, this is Dr. Cormier," said Delphine lowly when the other side answered, turning her face and body toward the wall as if it might help muffle her words in the narrow hallway. With the thumb of her left hand, she rotated the hoop on her pinky in a circle. "I'm calling to arrange for a bed to be made up in the lab in the Old Wing immediately. No, not a cot, a bed. Also, a cardiac monitor, an IV drip, and at least one oxygen tank. A portable one. No masks--yes, cannula. As soon as possible. That's correct--someone will be there to admit the staff. Thank you."

Delphine hung up and stood gazing down at her phone. 

"Hey. You look like you could use one of these."

Delphine gasped and whirled around, hand over her leaping heart. At the sight of Scott she breathed out and closed her eyes. Opening them again, she simply said, "Scott." 

The man in question stood uncertainly holding two paper cups of coffee. He extended one toward her. Delphine took it with a nod of thanks. She didn't drink it but held it between both hands and let the warmth bleeding through the cup leach into her fingers. Her pulse eased with every breath and drew away some of the fog drifting across her faculties. She studied Scott, tousled but no more discernibly so than he was on a daily basis. He looked like he was waiting for a cue. 

"I was about to contact you," Delphine said. "I thought you'd still be with Professor Duncan."

"I was," he affirmed. "I thought it would be a good idea to give him a tour of the Dyad since . . . you know . . . but turns out I don't really know my way around either. Some guy named Martin found us and offered to show Professor Duncan around and get him settled, so I thought I'd . . . come check on Cosima. The nurses said you guys were here. How's she doing?"

"She's--" Delphine stopped. She had a problem. Scott was a problem. She hadn't prepared any explanations for excusing a medical episode he might witness. Cosima might have, but Delphine hadn't--and she wasn't confident in her current ability to concoct anything plausible. "Scott . . . Cosima might not have mentioned this but . . ."

He raised a hand to stop her. "I know, Delphine."

"You . . . know," Delphine repeated.

"Yeah. Cosima told me, before we met Professor Duncan. I know she's--that she's 324B21."

"You know," Delphine repeated, flatly, a statement. She stared at him. 

"Even if she hadn't told me," Scott said defensively, "I probably would have figured it out after today. Cosima did call Professor Duncan her 'maker.'"

Delphine covered her eyes with a hand and breathed, "Professor Duncan." She hadn't even noted the "slip" at the time, she'd been so focused on gauging Cosima's reaction to meeting the geneticist. She dropped her hand, rested it on her hip, and eyed Scott. This was a new problem. The clones by becoming self-aware independently--a thought that still amazed Delphine--had taken disclosure into their own hands. It was their right. Of course, it was. But it was one thing to tell one's foster brother and another thing to tell a work colleague bound to the company that had sworn him to secrecy regarding just such a classified project. A look at Scott and the belligerent jut of his chin informed Delphine he hadn't yet seen past the wonder of the scientific revelation to the compromised position he was in. He didn't yet feel the constraints placed on his ability to say yes and no. 

She almost wanted to apologize to him.

"It doesn't change anything," he insisted. "She's still just Cosima to me." His unprompted defense against Delphine's possible judgment of an altered perception was so off-base that Delphine nearly laughed. 

"She's my friend," he continued, dissipating Delphine's amusement, "and I wanted to see if she's okay."

Delphine nodded. "She's conscious and responsive. Weak--a little--but that's expected. She's undergoing an MRI scan right now. Hopefully that will tell us more."

Her words seemed to summon worry into Scott's expression, not relief. "Does this mean that the stem cells aren't helping?"

"We can't say until we see the results," Delphine demurred.

Scott frowned. "Even if the stem cell treatment is helping, Cosima doesn't like it. Is it because the donor is--"

"Scott," Delphine cut him off. "Don't finish that thought."

They stared at each other. 

"Don't even think it," she said with a small shake of her head. Scott frowned. She smiled, tired and drained, but trying to look encouraging. "You're a smart man. But maybe too smart. Besides, now that we have Professor Duncan, he should be our focus. His insights may provide a key to developing a gene therapy cure--and if so, we won't need the stem cells."

Scott said nothing. His expression teetered upon bleak--the despair felt in the face of helplessness. It resonated too closely to the fears Delphine had corralled into a small corner of her mind. She touched his shoulder, jolting him into attention. 

"There is something I need you to do now," she told him. "I'm having some things delivered to the lab and someone needs to be there to receive them. Can you do it?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah." 

Delphine smiled. "Thank you. It's good you joined us, Scott."

He didn't reply, but gave her a look that lanced through Delphine, not quite resentment, not quite suspicion, but a look that encapsulated a realization: _You're one of them._

_Them_ being not _us_ , _us_ being _on Cosima's side._

She'd seen that look too often.

She was so tired of it.

Scott held up the other cup of coffee, breaking the moment's spell. "I brought this one for Cosima."

"You drink it," Delphine said. "I'm hoping to get an EEG done today as well." She raised her cup. "Thank you for this one. I'm going to go check on her. Let me know if there are any problems."

*

The MRI technician looked up as Delphine stepped back in.

"Dr. Cormier?" The tech's tone liquified Delphine's insides. "I think you should see this."

Delphine hastened over. The technician pointed to a screen. It took a few moments for Delphine to interpret what she was seeing on the display.

"No," she breathed.

The growths had spread.

*

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Cosima queried cheerfully as the technician assisted her out of the restraints and helped her sit up on the patient table. 

"I'm not a neurologist," Delphine sighed, as if admitting a great failing. The joke eased the effort of smiling. "I'm sending the scans to one. He will tell us more. Here, lean on me."

Cosima made no pretense of argument--Delphine deepened her smile to overcome a frown--but gripped Delphine's offered arm as she slid from the table to her feet, then lowered herself into the wheelchair. The transfer taxed Cosima. The tremor of her muscles leapt into Delphine's nerves. Her chest heaved in labor to collect oxygen.

Weariness, Delphine assured herself. It had been a long eventful day. Rest would help.

(But what if it didn't?)

When Cosima settled, they thanked the technician and left. 

"She's cute," Cosima remarked when they emerged into the hallway.

"What?" snapped Delphine, more harshly than she'd intended. 

"The tech," Cosima clarified blithely. "Katy. She helped us last time, too. I thought she was cute then, but I didn't say anything."

Delphine pressed her lips together, caught in a curious sensation, not so much jealousy or irritation, but an uncertainty as to what to feel. It was almost like those moments--that second--when Cosima shed a light on the impropriety of something Delphine said, the rush of joy overwhelmed by a wave of shame, dragging her into an ocean of confusion, setting her adrift. Where Delphine didn't know where the tests lurked. Where the tests lurked everywhere. 

Cosima tilted her head back and grinned up at her, upside down. "Not as cute as you, though."

Delphine rolled her eyes. If Cosima was disappointed that she didn't get a rise out of her, she didn't show it. Delphine attempted to steer them down another tack. In a softer register, she asked. "Are you feeling up to an EEG?"

Cosima made a face. "Can I say no?"

"Yes. Of course," Delphine said. "If you don't want to, we can--we can do it another day."

"So you're saying I shouldn't say no," Cosima drawled, righting herself face forward in her seat.

"I did not say that," Delphine said. "But I do think the sooner we have concrete information to examine, the sooner we'll have peace of mind." She laid a hand on Cosima's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "I know you're tired. But think of it this way: You can rest and the scan will get done."

Cosima threw a perplexed look over her shoulder. "I thought you were trying to keep me awake in case I sustained a concussion."

Delphine smiled to herself. "I think you'll be okay."

"Oh yeah?"

"You're too cheeky to be concussed."

Cosima threw her head back and stuck her tongue out at her. 

"See?" Delphine averred, brushing a hand over Cosima's brow. "Definitely not concussed."

Cosima waved a hand in a "whatever" fashion. "But are you sure about an electroencephalogram?" 

"What do you mean?" Delphine queried.

Cosima propped an elbow on an armrest and leaned her weight to the side. "See, I've thought about it."

"About an EEG? Why?"

"Well, when Sarah was Beth, doctors examined her in her sleep. Right?" Delphine grimaced, out of Cosima's purview of sight. "The reason she knew it really happened was because she found an electrode. They'd probably done an EEG while she slept."

"Okay," Delphine said, slowly. "What does that have to do with you getting an EEG today?"

Cosima stabbed the air with a finger. "Thinking about it, it occurred to me: There's no way they were giving me EEGs in my sleep, not for the past few years."

Delphine's forehead knit. "Why not?"

Cosima tilted her head back again and pointed at her head. "Not with these dreadlocks. Do you know what a pain in the ass these would have been for a clandestine operation?"

"Perhaps," Delphine allowed, barring laughter from her voice and face, "but today won't be clandestine."

Cosima's gaze flattened. "They're going to be horrified when they see me."

"No, they won't," Delphine insisted with a shake of her head.

Cosima pinned her with a skeptical deadpan stare--that, slowly, dissolved into a bright-eyed, toothy grin. "How much you wanna bet?" 

*

The EEG technician pointed at Cosima. "For her?"

Delphine nodded. The technician's expression said it all. 

Cosima smirked at Delphine. "You owe me."

*

Hours later, Cosima blinked groggily at Delphine. "All done?"

Delphine nodded. She brushed the back of her fingers down Cosima's cheek. "All done." 

"Are we going back to the patient ward?" Cosima asked, in a voice husky and small, plaintive and apprehensive, muddled in the mire of waking, not yet having wrested back her defenses from sleep's stripping clutches. 

Delphine shook her head. "No."

Cosima rubbed at an eye. "Good."

*

Their return to the lab in the Old Wing was received in state by Scott, who bound to his feet and rushed to hold the door open for them. 

"Hey, Cosima," he greeted. Awkwardly. His enthusiasm at their arrival balked at the sight of Cosima diminished in the dimensions of the wheelchair, the slight hunch of her shoulders making her appear smaller. (The stairs had required some exertion. There'd been no way around them but for Delphine to help Cosima descend them on foot and carry the chair down after. Had she known Scott was in the lab, Delphine would have fetched him to help.) 

"Hey, Scott," Cosima returned, smiling with the sardonic spirit keenly absent in her posture. Scott fidgeted. His concern simmered too close to the surface, ill concealed and threatening a full-scale takeover of his mien.

"We didn't expect you to see you," Delphine said into the uneasiness. "We thought you'd gone home already."

He combed a nervous hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know it's late but--I wanted to see how you were doing." 

Cosima leaned over and patted his arm. "Ready to kick your ass in Rune Wars again."

He chuckled and grinned. "The guys have been asking for a rematch. Just say the word and I can arrange a meet." He wrung his hands, then whirled jerkily and pointed at the equipment gathered in the middle of the room. "I didn't know if you'd need any help. I think that's everything you asked for?"

Cosima peered up at Delphine. "Did you conjure a change of clothes, too?" 

"No, sorry," Delphine said. "It didn't occur to me."

She brought them closer to inspect the delivery. Cosima eyed some of the equipment dubiously. The bed was made up. The sheets lay a bit askew, tucked into the corners in a manner that didn't strike Delphine as "hospital corners"--but did inspire an image of Scott pulling and tucking anxiously. Delphine could understand Cosima's fondness for him. Turning to Scott, Delphine asked, "Was there any trouble?"

Scott shook his head. "No. They did ask if we knew how to use everything, though." He shrugged.

Cosima reached out and snagged the bundle of electrodes for the cardiac monitor. She turned it over in her hand and said, dryly, "I think we can figure out how to use a bed."

Scott looked to Delphine. He'd heard it, too, the thread of something coiled in Cosima's tone.

Cosima raised her head and smiled at Scott, lips stretched taut. "Thanks for staying, but I think I'm ready to call it a day."

Scott looked between the both of them. "Will you need any help?"

Delphine shook her head. "I think we'll be alright."

"O-okay. But if you need anything--" He let the offer hang.

"I'd be cool with you not coming in first thing tomorrow morning," Cosima said.

"Permission to sleep in," Scott crowed, overly enthusiastic, "alright!"

Delphine smiled faintly. "Thank you, Scott."

He shuffled out in an exchange of goodnights. When the door closed behind him, Delphine ran a hand over the rumpled blankets, smoothing them out. 

Cosima waggled the tangle of electrodes. "Do we have to?"

"Just for tonight," Delphine maintained. "To make sure you're okay."

"This, too?" Cosima asked, flicking the IV lead, then nodding toward the oxygen tank.

"Yes," Delphine said quietly.

Cosima's expression floated in a neutral placidity, but behind it settled a leery bullishness, ire that bubbled but didn't explode. It made Delphine more nervous, in a way. An eruption of anger was a disaster she could face; this was a black mood that refused open recognition. 

Delphine drew her fingertips along Cosima's jaw and gently lifted her chin--ignoring the pallor of her cheeks and the patches of gel in Cosima's dreadlocks that would upset Cosima when she saw them and the sunken hollowness of her eyes that a nap had done little to ameliorate--to peer into her eyes. "Please?"

Cosima's mouth set in a line that tensed Delphine's spine, but pulled into a half-mouthed grimace. "It's such a hassle."

Delphine caressed her cheek. "But well worth it." 

Cosima cocked her head. "Okay," she said slowly, "but only if you tell me a secret when you're done."

Delphine's eyebrows lifted. "A secret? Any secret?"

Cosima shook her head. "Something I want to know. Promise to tell me and I'll let you hook me up."

Delphine hesitated. "Is this something you're sure I know?"

Cosima spread her hands. "Only one way to find out."

Cosima was right. In the state she was in, Delphine wasn't going to wrestle Cosima into submission, and merely a glance at the sparkle in Cosima's eyes told Delphine she'd been backed into a bargain she shouldn't have had to strike. 

Delphine nodded. "Okay."

Cosima grinned in triumph. "Okay."

Delphine held up her left hand and brandished the rings. "Do you want these back now?"

"Tomorrow," Cosima said. She plucked at the blanket. "I wish you'd ordered some pajamas."

"I'll get a change of clothes for you tomorrow," Delphine promised.

Cosima sent her a sly glance through her lashes. "And a queen-sized bed, too?"

They moved through each piece of equipment with careful consideration: the cardiac monitor, the IV catheter, and, lastly, the cannula. When the ends slipped into her nostrils, Delphine's fingers hooking around her ears to guide the tube into place, Cosima closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Delphine watched her, heart turning, knowing they'd crossed a line.

The oxygen would not be for just one night.

Cosima opened her eyes and said, "Okay, time to spill."

Delphine sat down on the edge of the mattress. Turning her hand palm up, she rested it upon the bedspread in offer. Cosima took possession of it, interlacing and untangling their fingers, exploring the knobs of Delphine's knuckles and testing the springiness of the pads of her palm.. 

"What do you want to know?" Delphine asked, in a near whisper, abdomen tight. 

Cosima sat quietly transfixed by the play of their hands. When she raised her eyes, her gaze pierced through Delphine.

"What did you see in the rest of the MRI scans?"

Delphine exhaled in a long, quiet breath.

Cosima smirked, a mockery of a smile. "You were right: you didn't have to worry about a concussion." A coda slipped out blunter, kinder. "I felt pretty clearheaded lying in the MRI machine for nearly two hours." 

Delphine ducked her head. Cosima gripped her hand. 

"Delphine."

"The growths have spread," Delphine said. The words fell from her lips as if torn out of her, leaving her ragged inside, raw. She raised her eyes. "Significantly."

The hardness of Cosima's expression didn't crack. "How significantly?"

"At a glance, to your esophagus and kidneys. And, I think--" Delphine wet her lips. "--to epithelial tissues, as well."

Cosima breathed evenly. They sat simply gazing at one another. Delphine ached to touch Cosima's face, but its static stoniness warned off the impulse. 

Cosima nodded. "Okay."

Delphine waited, watching. 

Cosima raised an eyebrow at her. "Anything else?"

Delphine's lips worked in futile, abortive silence. Cosima gazed on her efforts. Placid. Calm. Composed.

Delphine hung her head. 

"No," she whispered. It was an admission. Of not knowing. Of having no answers. Of failure. 

The events of the day crashed upon Delphine's shoulders and she trembled, as she had felt Cosima tremble in her hands, only her affliction wasn't a weakness of body, but a sickness in her heart, a faltering of fortitude, a consumption of worry, a narrowing of hope. Shame bowed her. How could she crumble now? How could she look at Cosima, sitting silent and steady? 

"Come here."

Delphine breathed out shakily.

"Delphine, look at me." Cosima's fingers tightened around her hand. Delphine closed her eyes and forced her breaths into an even rhythm. She blinked, gathering herself, and raised her head. 

Cosima looked at her. Not stone. Not empty. Tired.

Cosima tugged her arm. "Come here."

Protests flashed through Delphine's mind: the lack of space, the maze of tubes and wires, the risk of dislodging something. 

Cosima smiled at her, soft and inviting. 

Delphine slipped out of her shoes and stretched out close against Cosima's side, the two of them scooting and shuffling until they fit, snug and congruous, along the length of their bodies upon the narrow bed. Cosima settled her head upon Delphine's shoulder. They both belatedly realized they should have put aside her glasses first.

The oversight made them giggle. Delphine smiled, loosened. Cosima touched Delphine's lips. They lay in that second. Words gathered upon Delphine's tongue, apologies and explanations, excuses and predictions, the tide pursing her lips, but Cosima pressed gently, holding their force at bay. 

With the advantage of Delphine's long reach, they set Cosima's glasses upon the cardiac monitor without having to disturb their arrangement. When Delphine curled back around Cosima, the brunette said, "You've had a long day."

"Me?" Delphine gasped. 

"I love you," Cosima continued, as if Delphine hadn't commented, frank and soft, as if the declaration digressed self-evidently from her first thought. As if it were natural. 

Delphine's throat closed up. 

"Okay?"

Filling her lungs, Delphine pressed her cheek to the top of Cosima's head and nodded.

"We'll start figuring everything out tomorrow," Cosima added. It sounded like a pass. It felt like forgiveness.

Delphine nodded.

"Good," Cosima sighed. "Because I'm ready to pass out."

Delphine smiled, watery, unseen. "Then sleep, _chérie_."

"Mmhmm," Cosima hummed, sounding halfway gone.

Delphine kissed Cosima's forehead. " _Je t'aime aussi._ "

**Author's Note:**

> A thank you to those who tolerated my questions and acted as consultants as I wrote this piece, especially [full-of-fannies](http://full-of-fannies.tumblr.com/) at tumblr. (And apologies to those I am not naming openly, as I'm not sure you'd be comfortable with that.) All inaccuracies are my own. I'm not a doctor. Nor have I experienced a seizure. And I don't speak French.
> 
> (That's three strikes. I'm sorry.)


End file.
